Chapter Text
He was gone. She knew it before she opened her eyes, could feel his absence as strongly as she’d felt it every morning for more than a year now. But this morning she also felt that too long missed familiar sweet soreness between her thighs that told her his presence here with her, inside her, had not been a dream. She sat up in the cold, empty bed in this room that was neither her warm, comfortable chamber nor his long empty and unused one. They had clung to one another with desperation and longing, coupling frantically. His need for her had been as great as hers for him. She knew that. And yet, he had gone without speaking a word to her.
Craven! she thought furiously as the tears began to fill her eyes. How could you just go? She knew he wasn’t gone only from this bedchamber. He would have left Winterfell entirely, continuing on his journey to collect more wretched men for the godsforsaken Night’s Watch. She began shivering, whether from the chill in the air or the chill in her heart she could not say. Anger, pain, and a sadness so deep she felt herself drowning in it descended upon her, and she could not stop the cry that came to her throat. It went on and on, coming from the deepest part of her as she rocked back and forth on the bed that was not hers.
Vaguely, she was aware someone had been knocking at the door and calling to her, but she didn’t become fully conscious of it until the door opened, and she beheld her son enter the room to look upon her with a pained and worried expression. A flush of embarrassment was quickly added to that expression, and Catelyn realized that the furs had fallen to her waist as she sat there, exposing her naked breasts.
She quickly covered herself. “Robb,” she said softly. “He is gone.”
Her bearded son nodded. He had averted his eyes when he had first seen her, but now he looked at her again, and she saw the little boy there in spite of the whiskers. “I know, Mother. I saw him.”
“When?” she asked, pulling the furs with her as she started to rise.
“Earlier. He’s well away now, Mother,” Robb said gently, crushing any hope she had of catching him. “He meant to go without speaking to any of us. I feared he would do something like that, so I set someone to watch for him and come get me.” He hung his head. “I couldn’t let him go without saying goodbye.”
Catelyn sat back down, pulling the furs more tightly around her. They did nothing to ease the cold chill she felt, but at least they eased her son’s embarrassment. “What did he say?” she whispered.
Robb’s blue eyes filled with tears then. “He could barely speak. He told me he was proud of all of us, that we must be strong, and that we must not think of him. He is no longer our father.” Her son’s voice choked as he said the last, and Catelyn’s heart broke for him as much as it did for herself. “But he’s wrong, Mother!” Robb said fiercely, biting back his own tears. “He is my father, and I will not allow this injustice to stand!”
Catelyn’s pride in her son gave her the strength to stand then. “No, Robb,” she said softly, walking toward him while carefully keeping the furs well wrapped around her. “We will not. The Lannisters have won for now, and we must bide our time. But we will clear your father’s name, my son. Do not doubt it.”
He nodded. Then he looked embarrassed again. “Mother,” he said, hesitantly, “You need to go to your own chambers now. I . . .I don’t think anyone else heard you.”
“How did you . . .” she started to ask, but then she knew. “He sent you to me, didn’t he?”
“He didn’t want you found here,” Robb said, looking at his feet. “By anyone else, I mean.”
She reached out and put her hand under his chin, raising his eyes to hers. “Robb, I am not ashamed. Your father can talk about vows and oaths all he likes. I made a vow, too. In the sept at Riverrun. All I did last night was keep it.”
Robb still looked uncomfortable, but he nodded. “I know that, Mother, but we can’t have any trouble for us or for Father. If anyone believes he has broken his vows to the Night’s Watch . . .” He let his words trail off.
“You are right, Robb,” she sighed. “The Lannisters would need little excuse to take your father’s head even now. And there are some here in the north who wouldn’t mind seeing House Stark fall in order that they might profit.”
“Roose Bolton?” Robb asked.
Catelyn smiled grimly. Her son was learning this game. “Among a few others. Rickard Karstark loves you little since the death of his sons in the Whispering Wood.”
“I know, Mother,” said Robb. “I shall play the dutiful Lord of Winterfell, loyal vassal to the Iron Throne, while I must, but we will find a way. I promise you. We will get Father back.”
She forced herself to smile at him. “Go now,” she said. “I shall dress and come to the Great Hall to break my fast.” Before he could say anything else, she added, “And I shall come from my chambers.”
Robb returned her smile and took his leave with a kiss of her hand and a murmured, “My lady,” that sounded so like his father, Catelyn’s heart nearly stopped.
They would clear Ned’s name. Neither she nor Robb would accept less. But get him back? He’d said the words. Words spoken by Eddard Stark were more than wind. He kept his vows. Except for the one he made to me, she couldn’t help thinking bitterly, as she collected her clothing and dressed to return to her own chamber.
For the next few weeks, Catelyn Stark tried hard to keep thoughts of the man who claimed he was no longer her husband out of her mind, but succeeded no better than she had during the previous year. On her better days, she she simply missed him with an ache so deep it had become a part of her and feared for his safety and health with every breath. On her worse days, she silently raged at him for his inflexible sense of honor and even hated him for abandoning her whether it was his fault or not.
She had plenty to do, helping Robb correspond with Ned’s bannermen (she still thought of them as Ned’s, she couldn’t help it), seeking out information about the activities of Stannis Baratheon and the mysterious rumors of a dragon queen in the east, running the daily activities of Winterfell, and planning for the upcoming visit of Robb’s fiancee, Roslin Frey. All of these helped distract her from thoughts of Ned, even if she could never put him out of her mind entirely. They also had allowed her to ignore a more immediate concern. Within a moon’s turn of Ned’s visit to Winterfell, however, she was forced to face the truth. She felt ill every morning, and her moonblood had not arrived. She could not ignore the fact that she was with child.
She laughed bitterly to keep herself from weeping and wondered what it was between the two of them that caused their briefest encounters to be blessed so with children. One night with Ned had given her Robb, and the terror of being left a widow with a child before she’d ever truly been a wife. Now one more night with Ned had given her a child doomed to bear a bastard’s name unless she could go through with the only solution she could see.
She called Robb to speak with her in his solar. Ned’s solar. Her son took one look at her face and knew this was not to be a happy conversation. “What troubles you, Mother?”
“I need you to call your bannermen to Winterfell, Robb.” His expression told her he had noticed she referred to them as his rather than his father’s.
“Whatever for?” he asked. “Roslin and her party will be here in a fortnight, and I will hopefully be spending my time courting her.”
“We don’t need them all,” Catelyn said. “Definitely the Lords Umber and Glover, and Lady Mormont. We need them here first. And then we shall have need of either Lord Bolton or Lord Karstark. Both if we can get them here, and whoever else can come.”
Robb frowned. The Greatjon Umber, Galbart Glover, and Maege Mormont were three who had been working actively and secretly with them since Ned had first been sent to the Wall to find a way to topple the Lannisters and bring justice back to the north. He would know that bringing them together meant she had something important planned. “Why Bolton and Karstark?” he asked.
“If all goes as I plan, and I am granted the tremendous favor I must beg, we will need them for witnesses.”
“Witnesses? To what, Mother?”
“The wedding,” she said, feeling her stomach drop as she said it out loud for the first time.
“My wedding isn’t for moons yet,” Robb said, still looking puzzled.
“Not yours, Robb. Mine.”
Now he looked at her in astonishment. “Mother! How can you even think such a thing! We will get him back. You could never betray Father like that! I know you couldn’t!”
“Please lower your voice, Robb,” she said quietly. “I am doing this for your father. For all of us.” She hesitated, but knew she had to say it for him to understand. “I am with child, Robb.”
“With child?” he repeated incredulously. “But how could you be with child?”
She raised her brows at him. “You know where I spent the night when your father stayed here. Did you think we spent all our time together conversing?”
“I . . .I . . .” he stammered, clearly uncomfortable with this line of conversation. “But only one night!” he finally exclaimed.
“One night is enough, sweetling,” she sighed. “You are proof of that.”
“I won’t let you do this,” he said. “This babe is my brother or sister. It belongs at Winterfell.”
“To be labeled a bastard? And myself labeled a whore? Who will that serve, Robb?”
“You are no whore!” he shouted, and she motioned him to quiet his voice once more. “You are not a whore, my lady, and this child is no bastard. Everyone will realize it is Father’s child.”
“And he then will be labeled an oath breaker.” She sighed. “It cannot be, Robb. Would that it could, but it cannot.”
He looked her in the eyes then, and his expression turned grim. “There is another way,” he started to say.
“Do not say moon tea,” she told him. “I have thought about it, I assure you. But I cannot kill my child. Ned’s child. I can’t. Don’t ask it of me.” She hated the tears in her eyes then. She didn’t want to sway Robb with tears.
He was silent a long time then before he finally asked her, “What exactly is your plan then?”
She told him, and he went to send ravens to the first three they needed to gather. Fortunately, Lord Umber was at Deepwood Motte with Lord Glover just now as they’d recently met secretly with an envoy from the Greyjoys. Last Hearth was a great deal further away from Winterfell, and time was of the essence.
Time, in one sense, seemed to move at a crawl once the summons was sent, and Catelyn found herself counting the days and watching for any change in her appearance that would alert anyone else to her secret. She could barely breathe at times for fear of being discovered. Yet, in another sense, time moved too fast. She spent every second she could with her children, for if she got her wish, she would be leaving them once more, and they would not understand why. She couldn’t tell them the truth, and she feared they might hate her for what she was about to do.
Finally, her son’s three most trusted bannermen sat with her and Robb in Robb’s, Ned’s, solar, and she told them. There was no condemnation from any of them, but the sympathy was nearly as bad.
“This should be joyous news, my lady,” said Maege Mormont bitterly. “Gods damn the Lannisters for what they have done to you.”
Catelyn reflected briefly that no one ever questioned Maege about the father of her own daughters, and she wished devoutly that she were a Mormont of Bear Island. “It is clear that I must wed and quickly.”
Robb, having heard all this before, simply sat grimly, but the other three stared at her wide-eyed.
“If I bear a child at Winterfell nine moons after Ned was known to be here, only a fool would not know it is his. And if I merely flee to hide somewhere, I will be suspected of fleeing to be with him or to plot something on his behalf. The Lannisters will surely act against him.”
Maege Mormont nodded gravely. “I fear you speak truly, Lady Catelyn, but for you to wed another . . .”
Catelyn saw understanding in the other woman’s eyes. “I could never truly wed another man,” she said. “Eddard Stark is my lord husband, whatever the law of the realm says about it, and I shall take no other. Make no mistake about that.” She swallowed hard. “But I must be seen to do just that. By marrying me to one of his vassals, Robb can publicly affirm that he has accepted his father’s sentence to the Night’s Watch, as well as protecting me and the child. Then, if . . .”
“When, Mother, not if,” Robb interrupted. “When we succeed in our efforts and restore my father’s title to him, we can annul this false marriage. We shall all put our seals to testaments this day that we know my mother to be with child by my father now, and that any future union of hers will go unconsummated. I shall keep these safe until it comes time to reveal them.”
Silence met this pronouncement until Galbart Glover stood. “My lady,” he said formally, bowing to Catelyn. “I would be pleased to make you the Lady of Deepwood Motte, for your own sake as well as that of my lord.”
Catelyn smiled at him as her eyes teared up. “Oh, Lord Glover, I do thank you, but I fear I cannot accept.”
He looked stunned. “But . . .you said . . .I thought . . .”
“Yes,” she said. “I must wed. But I cannot wed you.” She took his hand then. “Your brother, Robett, is your heir, my lord, and his children after that. My son believes we shall succeed in all our hopes, and I pray he is correct, but if we fail . . .” She put her other hand over her belly. “This child would become your heir . . .this child who is no blood of yours. I cannot ask that of you.”
He looked down then, realizing the truth of what she said.
“It has to be me then, doesn’t it?” came Lord Umber’s gruff voice. “I have a son. My Jon will be my heir however many babes I claim on however many wives. And my own lady wife has been dead these long years now. It has to be me.”
Catelyn met his eyes. “I could think of no other, my lord. No other I could trust. But it is much to ask, and you have every right to tell me no.”
The big man shook his head. “I do not, my lady. I am sworn to House Stark, and if this is the manner in which I can protect my liege lord’s lady and his child, I shall do it. Last Hearth is a small keep compared to Winterfell, the people fewer and rougher. But all there will welcome you, and I shall never let you come to harm.”
“I thank you,” she said. Then she put her head down, blinking hard to stop the tears which threatened.
Rickard Karstark and Roose Bolton arrived within three days of each other. Several others came as well, once the wedding was announced. Karstark and Bolton were civil enough, but each wore an air of suspicion like a winter cloak. The house staff had come to Robb complaining that Bolton’s servants were making rude insinuations about Catelyn and Umber. When he had brought these to her, Catelyn had actually laughed.
“Let them,” she said. “Better yet, make sure the serving maids tell his men how upset I was that your father insisted on sleeping in the guest quarters, and how he left without bidding me farewell.
” “Mother . . .”
“No, Robb,” she insisted. “Let them see me as an angry, bitter woman whose husband has made it clear he no longer wants her.” It hurt to say the words as she feared there was more truth in them than Robb knew. “It makes it easier for them believe I would give my consent to this marriage scheme designed to demonstrate our commitment to the Iron Throne.”
He had nodded and said nothing else. Robb said little to her these days. He seemed to feel guilty somehow that he could not keep her safely here, although Robb had done nothing to cause any of this. He seemed to grow older before her eyes. The Frey girl he was to marry had arrived at Winterfell as well, bringing her retinue. The castle was full of people, and yet Catelyn had never felt more alone. Roslin Frey was a tiny slip of a girl, but she seemed sweet enough, and Catelyn hoped she could bring Robb comfort. The idea that she would be far away to the north on the day that her firstborn married the girl broke her heart, but she could not tarry here much longer. The babe would begin to show.
Her other children broke her heart as well. Rickon, alone, was content. He barely remembered Ned, a fact which devasted her. Lord Umber and Robb had agreed that being so young, he should remain with her, and so he would be coming to the Last Hearth. He was saddened at the thought of leaving his siblings, but more excited by the fact that he was the one doing the leaving this time.
Arya had raged at her when she heard of the marriage and called her terrible things. Catelyn had cried for hours when her younger daughter had finally run out of insults and run out of the Great Keep. She had forbidden Robb to bring her back or discipline her in any way. Catelyn longed to comfort her in some way, but she had no comfort to give. At ten years of age, Arya was too young to be burdened with this secret, and so she must be burdened with the belief that her mother was a traitor to her father. Catelyn prayed for the strength to bear her child’s hatred for her, and prayed that Arya could forgive her when she knew all the truth.
Bran had cried. Catelyn had pulled him up from the special chair with wheels they’d had made for him and held him on her lap. He didn’t like to cry. Being crippled made him even more determined to be brave and manly in all things, but learning that she planned to marry Lord Umber and leave Winterfell for good had undone him. She was glad they were alone, so she could hold him as he cried. “Why?” he had asked. “Why? Why? Why?”
She had held him close and said, “I do not want to leave you, sweetling. You must know that. Everything I do, I do to protect you. And Robb, and Sansa, and Arya, and Rickon. You must believe that, Bran.”
He had looked at her then, with those too old eyes of his. “And Father? Who will protect Father, Mother? Do you still care about that?”
She had grabbed him tightly then, and her own tears had spilled down her cheeks. “Oh, Bran! I will do all I can to protect your father for all my life, child! I promise you that!”
Bran had asked her no more questions and had been quiet and melancholy since, but at least he did not avoid her like Arya did.
Sansa had surprised her the most. She knew her daughter had suffered in King’s Landing. She knew she’d been forced to grow up more quickly than she should have, but she was unprepared for Sansa’s response to her announcement.
“Is Robb making you do this to strengthen our position with the Lannisters?” she’d asked quietly.
“Robb isn’t making me do anything, sweetling.”
“Of course, he is,” Sansa had said. “He’s the Lord of Winterfell, and you don’t get a choice.”
Gods, my babe! What did they do to you? she had thought. “Come here,” she had said, and bid Sansa sit beside her. “You are wrong and right, Sansa. You are wrong about Robb. It is his decision whom I wed, yes, but he would never force me. He will never force you, either, do you understand? He will be looking for a suitable match for you, but he will not act without consulting me about it, and certainly he will not wed you to anyone you cannot abide.” She paused. “You are right that I have no real choice here, though. This marriage will go a long way toward convincing the Lannisters that your father is resigned to his fate at the Wall and that House Stark intends to make no trouble for them. I would be willing to do far more than wed an honorable man like Lord Umber to keep your father alive and all of you safe.”
Sansa nodded, but said nothing. “Besides,” Catelyn continued, attempting to smile. “If I marry Lord Umber, we prevent the Lannisters from suddenly realizing I’m marriageable again and sending me south to wed some wretched bannerman of theirs.” Sansa nodded again, but her attempt at a smile was even more pitiful than Catelyn’s.
Finally, the day of the wedding arrived. Catelyn remembered little of the ceremony in the Godswood at Winterfell. She concentrated on her children, including the secret child hidden safely beneath her gown, reminding herself why she did this thing. Robb looked grim, but no one took that amiss. The men all just joked that the Tully-looking boy became more a Stark every day. Rickon just looked bored. He was annoyed that Shaggydog had not been allowed in the godswood during the wedding. Sansa and Bran looked despondent, and Arya had refused to come. Catelyn had refused to allow anyone to force her.
She paid little attention to the words she spoke or those she heard Lord Umber say. She forced herself not to flinch when he put that ugly cloak with its giant sigil on her shoulders. She wondered what Ned would think when he heard of this. Surely he would know. He had to realize there would only ever be one reason she would do this.
The feast was miserable. Much japing had gone on in the castle about the Greatjon’s loud and rough nature, and she had told him he must behave as if he anticipated his wedding night as much as any other bridegroom. So, under the watchful eyes of Rickard Karstark and Roose Bolton, he had kissed her soundly any number of times as they sat at the High Table, and had put his hands in all manner of inappropriate places when they danced. All of this brought roars of approval from the progressively more drunken guests, but Catelyn felt sick, and wished devoutly for some way to disappear.
Greatjon Umber seemed to sense her misery, for while the night was still young, and no clamors for a bedding had even been begun, he suddenly swooped her up into his arms as easily as if she were a child at the end of one of their dances.
“Dance on!” he roared at the assembly. “But I’ve a wife now, and I mean to bed her!” He looked at Catelyn’s face. “We’ve waited quite long enough, my lady!” he said with a lecherous grin. Then he turned and carried her from the Great Hall without another word.
A few brave souls made half-hearted attempts to follow them, but the musicians had already started the next song, and the vast majority of wedding guests simply wanted to keep dancing and drinking. Jon Umber easily fended off their pursuers, insisting that she was his alone, and she was more than grateful when he brought her to her chambers still fully clothed.
“Thank you,” she breathed, as he set her down.”
“My lady, forgive my behavior. I would never . . .”
“Be still, Jon,” she said. “You did precisely what I asked of you, and the gods know it is more than I have any right to ask.”
He looked taken aback for a moment. “You may ask anything of me, my lady,” he finally said.
“Then I ask you to stop calling me ‘my lady’ when we are alone. My name is Catelyn.” Not Cat, though, she thought. Not to you. “This may not be a real marriage, but you have proven yourself the truest friend Ned or I could ever have.” She hesitated and bit her lip to keep from crying. “And once we reach Last Hearth, I would like to have at least one person who calls me by my name,” she added in a small voice.
He nodded at her. “I shall have to stay here tonight . . .Catelyn. I guarantee the room will be watched.”
She sighed. “You’ll have to do more than stay in the room. I have no doubt the servants will be quizzed as to where precisely they find us in the morning. I fear I will require your assistance with the laces on the back of this wretched gown, and then if you would be so kind as to turn your back, I shall change for bed.”
The touch of the large man’s hands on her back felt wrong, and he fumbled miserably with the laces. Ned would have had me naked by now, she thought, and then banished all thought of Ned from this dreadful night. Finally, the laces were loose enough that she could get herself free, and he stepped as far away as the room allowed while she undressed and put on her nightshift.
Once she was safely under the covers, she told him he could turn around. He undressed to his breeches and then climbed into bed beside her. They lay there not talking or touching. Catelyn was thinking of the thousands of nights spent with Ned in that bed, and she wondered what the Greatjon thought about. She didn’t ask him.
She slept very little if at all, and easily heard the sound of the latch lifting when the serving maids arrived in the morning. She scooted herself so that she lay against Jon beneath the covers, startling him. He must not have been truly asleep either, though, because he quickly pulled the furs up high enough to disguise the fact she was clothed and raised himself almost over top of her.
He then turned his face toward the first young girl to enter the room. “Can’t you see we’re not ready to be disturbed?” he roared at her. The poor girl flushed crimson and fled the room, pushing the girl behind her out as well.
Lord Umber then sat up. “Now you can get up and dress in peace, my lady,” he said with a small smile. “I don’t think they’ll be back for awhile.”
“Thank you, Jon. And my name is Catelyn.”
By midmorning, everyone’s fast had been broken, their bags had been loaded, and goodbyes had been said. Rickon was positively bouncing up and down on his horse. He got his own mount to ride, but it was to be tethered to one of Lord Umber’s men’s. No one trusted him with the reins.
She had embraced Robb, Sansa, and Bran tightly, having to force herself to let them go. When her eyes scanned the area around them, Robb knew whom she sought. “She’s over there,” he said, nodding toward the gate she would soon ride through without any hope of returning in the near future.
Arya sat on the rock wall and did not look up as Catelyn approached her. Catelyn made no attempt to touch her daughter, although everything in her longed to do just that. “I love you, Arya,” she said. “And I will love you every day I am away from you, and love you even more when I come back.” Arya said nothing and did not look up. “I will come back,” Catelyn said. “Only death will prevent me from doing so. You cannot understand why I’m going or what I’ve done, and I cannot explain it to you. I know that. But remember, child, whatever you think or feel, I still love you. Nothing will ever change that.” She looked at her silent daughter for another moment and then returned to the others to mount her own horse.
She was dressed warmly for the day was cold. Jon had told her repeatedly that Last Hearth was far colder than Winterfell. As her horse passed out of the gates, Catelyn did not look back. She rode away from four of her children and her home. She rode away from the name she had called her own for over fifteen years. She rode away from the place where she had lived with, eaten with, worked with, and made love with the only man she would ever truly call husband. She thought about Ned at the Wall and doubted if either Last Hearth or the Wall could possibly be as cold as her heart was in this moment.